


First and Last

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Interspecies, M/M, Nonmonogamy, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the edge of darkness and in a house of light, Merry and Boromir undertake a romantic friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First and Last

**Author's Note:**

> People so often write first times. What about last times?
> 
> This is for [](http://danachan.livejournal.com/profile)[**danachan**](http://danachan.livejournal.com/)'s birthday. *blows kisses*

Title: First and Last  
Pairing: Boromir/Merry  
Other pairings: Merry/Pippin, Boromir/Merry/Pippin, other hobbit assortments discussed  
Rating: R  
Warnings: slash, nonmonogamy, interspecies, Tookish matchmaking.

 

The four hobbits nestled together against the darkness and the uncertain future. Parth Galen really was a lovely place, a soft green lawn between the water and the tree-clad hillslopes, yet none of Fellowship were at all happy as they bedded down that night. Frodo stared blankly ahead as if at a dark waking dream, and Sam and Pippin curled round him as if they might protect him from it. Merry pressed himself to Pippin's back, lending his strength to the knot of hobbits struggling to bear Frodo up.

Merry woke from fractured sleep to midnight whispers, and opened his eyes to see Frodo's dismayed look faintly outlined by a dull blue glow from Sting. Aragorn knelt beside Frodo, murmuring something too low to be heard, and beyond them in the gloom a broad-shouldered shape rose and turned toward the trees. _Boromir_, Merry thought, feeling guilty for having left the Man alone that night, but he and Pippin had felt Frodo needed them more, and he was after all their reason for being there.

Even so....Pippin and Sam had snuggled together and were somehow sound asleep. Merry laid a kiss to Pippin's curls and a hand to Sam's brow, and got up to go after Boromir. With orcs about as Sting told, even the mightiest of them should not be alone in the night.

Boromir was walking slowly, almost strolling, so Merry wasn't hard put to catch him. He startled when Merry slipped a hand into his, then smiled, teeth shining in the dimness. "Master Meriadoc," he murmured, a warm rumble, "you should be asleep."

"So should you, Lord Boromir," Merry replied teasingly as he ran his thumb over a ragged fingernail, chewed to the quick. Boromir gently squeezed Merry's hand, and without further words they walked up the slope to where the trees began. Boromir led Merry to a particularly large tree and set his back to it, drawing Merry to sit in his lap; listening to Boromir's heartbeat as he stretched his arms around the Man, his eyes seeing only gloom upon gloom, Merry called up a memory of light.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

"It's a wonder his clothes haven't burst into flames," Pippin noted.

"Mmm-hmmm," Merry agreed absently. They stood on one of the little balconies that honeycombed Rivendell within and without, eating apples and watching the Big Folk pass by in the golden-bright hallway. Frodo was studying maps, which Merry knew was wise but had become quite sick of; Sam was with Bilbo, listening to Elves sing, which Merry thought was lovely but had become rather sick of. Gandalf was closeted with Lord Elrond, and Strider was off being Aragorn heir of Elendil somewhere; Merry still boggled at the news that the long-legged Ranger was a lost king. So he and Pip kept each other company, making jokes about all the odd folk of Middle-Earth and wondering which might be chosen to come with them---for they were certainly going with Frodo, Merry was sure of it---until Merry caught sight of Boromir of Gondor, and the half-eaten apple rolled from his fingers as he filled his eyes with the craggy-profiled Man.

Merry was not sure how either of them might take the comparison, but his first glance at Boromir, who had smiled down at him as he strode past on legs like tree-trunks, had reminded Merry of when he was thirteen and hadn't seen Frodo for nearly a year. Frodo had walked into Brandy Hall, tall and fair, and Merry was never sure if it were a change in his cousin or in him that had made his heart pound and his thighs tremble. Whatever it was, he felt it again when he looked up at Boromir of Gondor that first time, and even more so the next, when the Man took the first chance he could to crouch down to eye level and introduce himself properly.

Pippin was saying something. "I mean, the way you're looking at him, all of his buckles and clasps should have undone themselves for you already, if not melted. He really should be standing there naked with his arms up for you to jump down into them."

"Quite right," Merry murmured, watching Boromir's shoulders move beneath his tunic as he spoke with a pair of dark-haired Elves. Then the actual meaning of Pippin's words penetrated, and he turned and lunged, and Pippin rolled away, laughing. "Pip!"

"Oh, ho, Merry, you should see yourself!" Pippin danced out of reach as Merry got to his feet. "Oh, I haven't seen you so besotted since---"

"I am not besotted!" Merry put his hands on his hips; Pippin laughed uproariously. "I am, well---"

"Besotted," Pippin finished smugly. "Not that I fault your choice; he is friendly for someone so lordly, isn't he? Most folk here hardly notice us. And those thighs, do you think we could even get our arms round them?" Pippin grinned, then turned and leaned over the railing; before Merry could stop him he cried, "hullo, Boromir!" Merry felt his face turn as red as Sam's ever did, as Boromir looked up at them, and smiled, and waved one of those mighty arms. "Greetings, Pippin of the Shire! Greetings, Meriadoc!"

Merry wondered what the Elves would do to him if he tipped Pippin over the railing. Well, no, he couldn't, he knew what Frodo would do to him. "Come up and join us!" Pippin called, and Merry's face burned hotter yet. "We have apples!"

The Elves shook their heads; Boromir looked delighted. "Well, how might I resist that? I shall be up directly."

"Consider it an early birthday present," said Pippin smugly; Merry could only gape. "I think he's handsome, and Sam doesn't think Frodo is well enough yet, and we haven't had anyone new in months and months."

Merry's mouth finally submitted to his control, though he knew he was still red as Boromir's jerkin. "Peregrin Took, what are you on about?"

"I'm going to get him for us, Merry. Though I must say I'm surprised I have to be the pushy one here; I suppose your upper head must be completely shut down." Judging it safe, Pippin stepped within arm's reach to kiss Merry's cheek. "Well, aren't you going to thank me?"

Pippin laughed into Merry's answering kiss.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

"You should sleep," Boromir murmured, even as his fingers slid up over Merry's neck and cheek and ear to thread gently among his curls. "Our path tomorrow leaves off floating down the River and instead lies over rough country."

"If we go to Minas Tirith with you," Merry replied before he thought; Boromir went rigid, even to the fingertips in his hair, and he winced and could have kicked himself.

"If," Boromir echoed, voice a chilling hiss; alarmed, Merry wound his arms round his neck to pull himself up. "I'm sorry," he whispered in Boromir's round ear, nuzzling hair that smelled of grass and river-water, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Boromir turned his head, beard brushing along Merry's cheek. "I know, Merry. But you see, do you not, that the wisest course is to my city?"

"But Aragorn says---" With a stab of anxiety, Merry bit his lip, but he'd already said too much; Boromir's eyes glittered in the dim light, his mouth grimly set. "I mean, well, Boromir, I'm sorry, I don't know."

Boromir's other hand closed on Merry's shoulder, just this side of forceful. "To whom do you listen?" he asked, eyes cold and hard in the dimness. Heart chilled and aching, Merry thought, _Please don't ask_, knowing it a futile wish. "Which of us do you heed, Merry? A Ranger of the North, or me, your Boromir?"

Merry trembled, searching for safe words. Boromir's voice was firm, but Merry could hear pain beneath it, and the last two words made his heart bleed. He had no answers that would warm those ice-chip eyes, none with any truth in them, except a kiss, so that was the answer Merry gave; Boromir slumped in his arms and sighed, almost a sob, and pulled Merry tightly to him, cupping his head in one broad hand as he returned the kiss.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

"If you are to accompany Frodo on this errand, you must be able to defend yourselves." Boromir stood in a courtyard, stripped to his undertunic and vest, the muscles of his bare arms hard curves in the daylight. Merry and Pippin stood before him, their Barrowblades in their hands; the other hobbits and Aragorn sat off to one side, smoking and watching in silent amusement. "I can teach you to handle your swords, if you would like."

Merry hoped devoutly that Pippin wouldn't make a bawdy joke, and for once he didn't. Instead, Pippin drew himself up, all three-and-three-quarters-feet of him, puffed out his chest, and retorted, "we _can_ defend ourselves! You should have seen us on Weathertop!"

Merry kicked him before he could continue; Boromir's eyes were already crinkling with suppressed laughter. "What my kinsman means," he said as Pippin held his shin and glowered, "is that we would be grateful if you would teach us, and honored." He bowed, and Boromir bowed in return, his smile broad and warm.

"Well, yes, of course," Pippin said grumpily. "Thank you, Boromir, You didn't need to cripple me, Merry."

"You'll live," Merry retorted, and turned his attention back to Boromir's shining grey eyes. Boromir smiled all the wider, but all he said was, "Then show me what you might do, my halflings." Setting his feet, he held out his wooden practice-sword. "Come on."

Merry glanced over at Pippin, catching his sparkling green eyes. Pippin nodded, and they charged as one.

In half a dozen heartbeats, Pippin went flying fur-over-curls. Merry watched Boromir's eyes flick over to see that Pip was fine, even as his arm moved to block; Merry dove under and Boromir actually smiled at him as he parried. For just a few seconds Merry held his own, watching with satisfaction as Boromir's eyes widened; then Boromir moved, so fast Merry didn't even see it, and Merry was left with his hand empty and stinging, his eyes full of the pleased and respectful look on Boromir's face, and his heart sweetly aching.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

"Mmm, Boromir," Merry murmured, feeling soft bristles pleasantly chafe his lips. "What do you think might help you sleep?" Boromir chuckled softly, pressing his fingers into the flesh of Merry's back through his clothes, and Merry's heavy heart rose at the sound and the feel. "I do not know," he teased, pulling Merry in for another kiss, moving a wide warm mouth over his. "I think you must teach me."

"I think you know," Merry retorted, almost dizzy with relief. They might tumble, and sleep, and tomorrow would be better, he told himself, tucking his foot beneath Boromir's thigh as he kissed his way along his bearded jaw to the smooth skin at the edge of his throat. Merry laid his tongue there, tugging Boromir's collar down as he tasted the strong pulse, as he listened to Boromir sigh and start to warm. Boromir slid his hand down over Merry's back and rump, gently squeezing one cheek, and then up beneath his shirt and undershirt, his fingers hot and wonderfully rough on Merry's skin.

"Ah, my lad, how you feel," Boromir murmured raptly, and Merry asked, without lifting his head, "how do I feel, Boromir?" Then Merry bit him slowly at the base of that corded throat, and listened to Boromir's words grow ever more ragged as he struggled to reply against the rising heat Merry strove to kindle in him. "You feel, Merry, like a man with a woman's fine smooth skin, oh, like a fine lad with wise eyes, like, ah...." The words trailed off into a rumbling moan as Merry sucked at the bite. "Oh, Merry, Meriadoc. I, ah, please, please."

Triumph tingled through Merry, but a question followed it. He loved to be begged, loved being the bossy one, loved it all the more with a friend so strong as mighty Boromir, but wasn't it a bit early in the tumble for pleading? "Boromir?" Merry asked, lifting his head, and the grey eyes that met his were wide and sad and somehow heartrendingly young. But then, for all his height and battles and lordliness, Boromir was younger than Frodo, Merry recalled with a pang. "Boromir?" he asked again, as Boromir cupped his cheek, gazing at him with eyes that suddenly spilled over.

"Meriadoc," Boromir replied, his voice rough and shaking with something else than desire; closing his own prickling eyes, Merry kissed the tear-tracks on Boromir's cheeks, wanting with everything in him to soothe away those tears, that struggling pain. "Ah, Merry, my halfling friend, my dear little one. May Pippin spare you?"

"Pip's sound asleep with Sam. He'll be fine." Merry kissed Boromir's eyelid, and felt his cheek curve in the start of a smile. "He'll be cross to miss this, but he'll be fine."

Boromir's chuckle was thin and rasping and so welcome to Merry's ear. "He had a night with me, in all fairness you are owed one." Boromir shifted his head back to look into Merry's eyes again. "A sweeter one than this dark night. Still, stay with me?"

It seemed as if Boromir's gaze burned through Merry, set his heart smouldering. The threatened tears escaped down his cheeks, but he paid them no mind. "Gladly," he whispered, and Boromir kissed him as if he were his only bulwark. His tongue winding into Merry's mouth, Boromir pulled Merry off his feet and gathered him up in long arms; lying down on his side he tucked Merry against himself, all the while kissing him with a passion edging on desperation.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

"You've got it bad," Pippin observed, stroking Merry's hair. "You're really sweet on him, aren't you?" Bilbo was napping in his room, Frodo lay sound asleep curled against Pippin's back, and Sam was down in the kitchens again, sorting through Elven delicacies to find what he felt would best suit his master's convalescent condition. Even so, Merry blushed and waved off the question, but Pippin was relentless. "Merry, what troubles you so?"

Merry sighed and surrendered. "It's just that, well, I've always liked being the bigger one. I'd hardly be that with him, would I?"

"You're not with me," Pippin said improbably, which made Merry laugh; they might be the same height but Merry was broader and heavier. "Besides, that's more his worry, isn't it, that we're so much smaller?"

"As if he'd want us; we must look like children to him. You shouldn't encourage me in this, Pippin."

Pippin let out a low whistle. "You definetely have it bad, Merry. You can't even see that he wants you back, that he wants us both." Merry startled at that, and glanced up at Pippin's face, but though Pippin was smiling, he wasn't smirking. "For all your staring at him you haven't even seen him staring back, staring at me, at both of us as if we're two sweets he couldn't choose between. I think we should give him both."

Merry opened his mouth to point out the flaw in this plan, but couldn't hear one in his mind for the roaring of blood in his ears. "Pippin Took, I, oh, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

Now Pippin smirked. "I knew you'd see sense," he replied, and kissed his gobsmacked Merry.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

The sky blew clear, the stars came out to glitter high above. Boromir had curled himself around Merry and wrapped them both in his cloak; they hadn't undressed, but quite a few clasps and buttons were undone, and Merry gasped into an encompassing kiss as he writhed against Boromir's broad chest, as Boromir stroked him with long damp fingers. Merry had wet those fingers by sucking on them, and had gazed on Boromir's face as he did; he'd watched as desire and love pushed out worry and care, and had felt as if a star were flaring within him. Now Merry lay surrounded by Boromir, one arm holding him and the other hand rippling around him.

_I was supposed to distract_ you, Merry had thought, trying to give as good as he got, but Boromir knew bossiness, and he gently took over, kissing Merry quiet, stroking his hands where they tangled into the soft leather tunic and the long straight hair. His body tenderly cradled by Boromir's muscled frame, his mind hazing over with the comfort of being held and the pleasure streaming through his veins, Merry slowly let go, releasing the disputes and dangers of the day and the fears and worries of the night to sink into this warm little corner of the world and lie moaning softly in Boromir's embrace.

"Oh, I, oh!" Merry arched his back, struggling not to wail; Boromir laid a trail of kisses up across face, laying lips to his brow as if testing the mounting fever in Merry's blood. Merry was too far gone now to pry his eyes open, but he could feel Boromir's gaze on him, warm as his hands and his lips; he pictured in his mind what lay beyond his eyelids, Boromir's eyes softened and shining as he watched Merry, his beard-fringed lips slightly parted, the starlight glinting here and there in his hair. Merry saw all this as if with his eyes, and felt his peak take him, let himself come apart moaning Boromir's name, let Boromir hold him as he came back together again.

At length, Boromir wiped his hand on the grass and did up some of Merry's buttons. "Oooh," Merry murmured eventually, turning his face back out from where it had been pressed to Boromir's chest. "Mmm. Boromir. I should---"

Boromir cut him off with a kiss. "You should lie quiet with me, Merry. Let me enfold you as you have me."

Merry blinked, looked up, and returned Boromir's smile. "I hope you're quoting some old lay," he said, "because if you made that up, I must tell you it's terrible."

Boromir bit his lip, couldn't help it, and laughed.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

"So then the muddy-haired mite turns to our uncle, points to me, and says, 'it was _his_ idea!'" Boromir laughed as he finished the story; Merry had been laughing since the point when little Faramir leapt after his brother into the puddle, and snickering before that. He sat on one of the graceful chairs of Rivendell, tucked beneath Boromir's arm; there were two other chairs beside the bed, both empty. Pippin had been sitting on Boromir's other side, but he'd taken himself off on an errand (not without a broad wink to Merry, of course), and Merry pressed himself into the large warm sturdiness of the Man as they told tales of their upbringings and laughed together.

Then Boromir's face went quiet, and Merry felt a stirring of worry as he returned the almost solemn gaze. "Meriadoc, I have a question for you, if you will pardon it."

Was that all? Merry exhaled and smiled brightly. "Oh, Boromir, ask me anything!"

Boromir smiled as well, and his hand slipped absently up and down Merry's arm, but he looked down at his other hand in his lap. "You and Peregrin, you were reared together, but you do not, well, you do not seem like brothers."

Merry blinked, and then began to laugh with delight. Boromir's asking worked better than any way Merry could have brought it all up. "Oh! Oh, yes, we're kissing-friends, Pippin and I. Frodo and both of us, for that matter." Boromir looked almost comically surprised, and then intrigued. "They've been two of my dearest friends all my life, after all."

"Kissing-friends?" Boromir asked, turning the unfamiliar word on his tongue, and Merry nodded. "A friend whom one kisses, and more." He waggled his eyebrows evocatively, and Boromir's puzzlement changed to a broad smile. "Mostly we have such friends when we're tweens; when we're grown we pick someone to wed and settle down with. I'll have to do that soon, I'm of age and more. So will Sam, for that matter. I'm surprised his Gaffer---that's his father, that's what everyone calls him, Gaffer Gamgee---isn't after him about it."

Boromir nodded. "Samwise is quite devoted to Frodo. Are they also, 'kissing-friends'?"

Merry shook his head. "No, I mean, they started out that way, maybe. No, not really. They've always loved each other far too much, far too lastingly, even for that. I'd call them handfasted if I could, for all that they're both lads and Sam is Frodo's servant. They love each other too much for any of it to matter." Thinking on them, Merry smiled.

"And you and Pippin?" Boromir leaned his head on his hand as he asked, listening intently. Merry's smile shifted; this was a different sort of bittersweet, no less joyful for all that. "I've been Pippin's ever since I was handed a screaming bundle of baby and he quieted in my arms. I'm his, however he'll have me. But, well, he and I do like lasses, and we both have to wed someday, being heirs to estates and all. So we'll find ourselves wives, and stand at each other's weddings, and foster each other's children, and be friends all our lives."

Boromir nodded at all of this. "You halflings, your lives seem at once complicated and sensibly arranged. I look forward to learning more of your people's ways."

Merry thought of the lesson he had in mind, and grinned, and licked his lips. "And which is the tradition of 'kissing-friends', do you think? Complicated, or sensible?" Boromir's widening eyes and parted lips gave him his answer. "Would you like to be my kissing-friend, Boromir?"

Merry watched Boromir's throat bob as he swallowed. "Merry. Do you know what you ask?" Merry nodded, leaning forward to put one hand on a broad knee; from the corner of his eye he saw Pippin slip back into the room, grinning ear to ear. "And you know I'm old enough to ask. I'm quite grown."

"Even so, Merry, you are---" Boromir was obviously struggling to be tactful, so Merry had a little mercy; he got to his feet beside Boromir, putting their faces level. "See, I'm as tall as you are," he said drolly; Boromir's confusion gave way to laughter, and his arm round Merry tightened more than a little, and Merry prickled with his nearness.

However, though their noses were nearly touching, though they were so close their breath stirred each other's hair, Boromir didn't kiss him. Merry slid his hand up over Boromir's chest, feeling the breadth of him and how he trembled beneath the touch, but Boromir still didn't kiss him. Instead, he hoarsely asked, "And Pippin? What would he think?"

"He'd be bloody delighted, " Pippin said. Even though Merry had known he was there he jumped, and Boromir nearly came out of his skin. Pippin strolled over and stood before them, arms folded, looking impatient. "He's quite fond of you," Pippin said to both of them. "And Frodo and Sam and Bilbo aren't expecting to see us till next morning. So, kiss each other already!"

"Thank you for that good advice, Pip," said Merry, as he curved his hand around the nape of Boromir's neck, feeling the straight hair spilling over his fingers. "Boromir?"

Boromir's eyes sparkled, and he shook his head and laughed. "I cannot stand against the two of you," he replied, voice almost a growl, and pulled Merry in for the desired kiss.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

"We should be up." Boromir's voice and hands roused Merry from where he dozed curled against Boromir's chest. "We should return and be sure of how Frodo fares. And of course the others of the Company."

Merry nearly agreed, but something in Boromir's voice, and the ragged fingernail lightly scraping his ear, made him cast a worried glance up at the Man. It could be simple concern, it could be the Ring tugging again at Boromir's mind; his eyes showed nothing in the starlight but Merry's dim reflection. Angry with himself for dozing off and leaving Boromir alone with the dark night, Merry forced a little laugh and curled his fingers over Boromir's round ear to draw him down for a kiss. "I'm sure they're fine," he said lightly, brushing his cheek over the rough-soft beard he could never get enough of. "We would have heard if they needed us. And here I fell asleep on you, selfish creature that I am. Please let me make it up to you, Boromir."

"Merry," Boromir objected, but he returned the kiss, sitting up and drawing Merry with him. Merry wound his arms round Boromir's neck as he was pulled upright, then let himself slide down Boromir's chest to settle on a lap he already knew would be bumpy. Squirming over the ridge, feeling it fill and lengthen beneath him, Merry slipped his hands up beneath Boromir's tunic, running his fingers over the taut, trembling stomach and through the pleasantly coarse hair to brush them over already hard nipples, and smiled at the answering gasp. "Merry," Boromir murmured, cupping his head in one hand, "you do not have to---"

"I want to," Merry replied, rubbing his cheek on Boromir's chest. "I want to. Do you want me?"

"Yes," Boromir rumbled, so deep Merry felt it more than he heard it. "Merry, yes."

"Well, then." Merry reluctantly got up off that enticing ridge to hold Boromir's face between his hands and kiss him. Boromir's eyes were dark in the starlight, but his fingers combed slowly through Merry's curls, and he smiled and stroked Merry's cheek with his thumb. "You my halflings, I can never deny you, can i?"

Warmed by Boromir's smile, Merry smiled in return, and kissed his nose. "At least I'm not as demanding as Pippin," he said, watching the smile go to a grin. "No," Boromir replied, "instead you are unquenchably forward."

"Oh, you like me bossy," Merry retorted, and kissed him as bossily as he could. Boromir held him so tightly he could hardly breathe, but what was air to this? Merry caught Boromir's bottom lip between his two smaller ones and pulled it into his mouth, sucking on it till he won a groan. Wishing they dared remove their clothes, Merry molded himself to Boromir's body closely enough to be felt through all the layers, and slid down again to kneel between those long powerful thighs and undo the laces of Boromir's leggings.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Merry felt the bed shift, felt himself being watched in sleep, and opened his eyes. Moonlight spilled through the arched window, outlining in silver and shadow a powerful shoulder, a long neck, a craggy face softened by wonder, as Boromir lay on his side, head propped up on his arm, and gazed at them. Pippin lay sunk in sleep, face pressed to Merry's shoulder, limbs flung across him; Merry blinked muzzily up at Boromir and smiled, and felt himself warmed all over by the wide answering smile. "Meriadoc," Boromir murmured, gently running the backs of his fingers across Merry's cheek and down into Pippin's hair. "Peregrin." Their names in Boromir's rich voice, the touch of his fingers, the look in his eyes, all made Merry's heart glow within him.

But then, just as Merry opened his mouth to reply, something closed behind Boromir's eyes, and he turned away to sit up, and Merry's gladness faded to worry. "Boromir?" Merry whispered, and Boromir smiled at him again, but a briskly friendly sort of smile this time. "I should return to my room," he said so reasonably that Merry shut his mouth on the protest welling up. "It must not be said..." He shook his head, his hair glinting in the moonlight. "Shall we still meet in the morning for your lessons?"

That was a relief, and yet..."I'll be there if you will," Merry replied, stretching a smile over the wistfulness of watching Boromir get up. He held out his free hand, and Boromir lifted his hand towards it, then reached out to ruffle Merry's hair instead, as if he were a child. Indignation flaring, Merry nearly said as much, but Pippin curled a little tighter around him, and Boromir was stiil smiling at him, and there were other things than pride; dropping his hand to the coverlet, Merry took a breath and looked up again. "Get some sleep, my lad," Boromir advised, smile tilting to a grin. "I will not go easy on you in the morning."

"I wouldn't hear of it," Merry whispered, and shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch Boromir dress and go.

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Merry thought back to that moment as he shifted beneath Boromir's arm, thought of Boromir's guilty delight and his and Pippin's cheer when they finally convinced the Man to let them sleep beside him. Now he and Boromir lay back at the camp, curled together and wrapped in Boromir's cloak and blankets; Boromir looked peaceful in sleep, his brow smoothed, but Merry lay awake, listening to Boromir's slow heartbeat and the soft flowing sounds of the water, wondering where tomorrow would take them, which path they would choose.

The decision wasn't his. It should have been Gandalf's, and that thought made Merry wince and sigh. It could have been Aragorn's, and Merry could see his reasons, but Boromir....Merry longed to listen to Boromir's reasons, to believe what he saw in his grey eyes, to see the White City he loved so dearly and meet the brother he spoke of so often.

Merry was glad it wasn't his decision.

Boromir murmured in his sleep, which he rarely did; Merry snuggled closer as he might have to soothe Pippin or Frodo, hoping Boromir felt him and was comforted. Earlier, Boromir had said of Aragorn, "He served my grandfather. To think he might have commanded him, or so he says." He'd asked Merry to choose. How could he have?

If Merry wasn't choosing, why was he still awake?

Merry thought of the morning after that first night; he smiled as he recalled how groggy he'd been, and how unmercifully Boromir had beaten him in the lesson. He ran his hand up the mighty arm curled round him, the arm that had taught him sword-forms and lifted him from the snows of Caradhras and borne him over fissures in Moria. He thought of Boromir when this was all over---and it would end well, Merry had to believe---standing on a white stone balcony, mantled in fur and smiling. And if they would get there, Merry needed to rest to do his part by Pippin and by Frodo, and by Boromir.

Merry sighed once more and tucked his head beneath Boromir's chin; he closed his eyes, and finally he slept.


End file.
